When the Olde Appear
by Sheiado
Summary: Moonlight: MickBeth. Two ancient vampires come to Los Angeles, one a mysterious hunter of innocents and the other, a rogue who hunts the other ancient for retribution.
1. Prologue: An Unexpected Visitor

**When the Olde Appear**

**By: Sheiado**

**Summary**: (Moonlight: Mick/Beth). Two ancient vampires come to Los Angeles, one a mysterious hunter of innocents and the other, a rogue who hunts the other ancient for retribution.

**Prologue**: An Unexpected Visitor

Ripples of glimmering hues peeked through vast skylines, bathing the room in rich swirls of light that reflected heavily through the glass chambers of windows. The colors of day shifted into thin measureless outlines of a fading sun amongst the piling layers of heavily formulating clouds.

Sunset was at its peak.

The great beacon which splayed its brilliance of light and heat onto the Earth made its routine descent downward, where it no longer lingered in a well-loved mortal sky. Darkness and shadows now approached, as well as the impending globe of a beautiful, glistening moon.

Within the shimmering encasement of windows, a figure stood looking out, his dilated eyes no longer fighting against the lightness that surrounded him. His body only strengthened with each ticking minute that passed and with each blistering ray that fell into nothingness toward the Earth below.

Josef Konstantin, despite his utter joy and relief with an imminent approach of a night sky, creased his lips into a narrow frown of displeasure.

He had been awakened earlier, far earlier than usual by a servant who had informed him rather gruffly, "A woman named Alice DeWaranne is here to see you, Sir. She insists on speaking with you immediately."

Alice DeWaranne.

The name, even spoken aloud in his presence, invoked nothing except a strong sense of foreboding in his gut. And, to be frankly honest, it pushed him to a point that went _'far'_ beyond a mortal's irritation. She was, after all, an impossible and very difficult woman. So difficult, in fact, that she was an absolute nuisance, to him and his city, if she so stubbornly chose to remain here.

He hadn't seen her in nearly a century and, despite her many years living amongst mortals, the woman still hadn't changed in the least; she was headstrong, willful, temperamental, unpredictable, and an outright rogue among their own kind. One of her least admirable qualities was the fact that, alike to Mick St. John, she valued mortal life and protected it like it was her sole duty and purpose for existing.

Be that as it may, no one, not even those as old or younger than he, would ever dare defy or rise against her.

She was 1200 years old and one of the most powerful elders walking among them. Not to mention, she was a hardened warrior with abilities and strengths that could easily rival ten of them put together.

He would be an absolute idiot if he refused an audience with her. No doubt, if he did, she'd walk right in, after breaching his office through the five men guarding it, with her sword set firmly against his throat… and probably wouldn't hesitate to do the deed of taking his head cleanly off his shoulders.

Josef Konstantin was both annoyed and angry by her intrusion into _'his'_ territory, but was _'far'_ from being dim-witted enough to give reason to initiating her rage upon him.

The door clicked open and light, familiar footfalls drummed rhythmically against his marble floor tiles.

Turning himself around in acknowledgement and inclining his head respectfully, Josef greeted, "Lady DeWaranne."

Her hair was longer, now tumbling down her back in dark waves like a rippling waterfall and her eyes, a flashing mix of emerald and gold, gazed at him with a stern, penetrating stare.

She had the acute ability to unnerve people.

She had the aristocratic look of a dark and beautiful avenging angel… but Josef knew from experience that she was anything but such a glorious mythological figure of mortal literature. She was stunning and gorgeous, unaffected by time, but had the temperament of a Scottish banshee.

Despite his misgivings and personal feelings, he knew that her presence here had to be of a grave nature, just as he knew that whatever she came here to speak to him about was far from being a trivial matter.

It was serious, and mayhap beyond that.

"Took you long enough," she muttered, stepping with lithe ease further into his office.

Her manner of dress depicted her well; a black tank that crisscrossed along her slender but muscular shoulders, slacks that molded against shapely legs, black boots, and a sheathed Katana holstered against her back.

She looked every bit the picture of a modern, female warrior and was obviously not at unease in displaying it in front of him or his staff outside.

He highly doubted that the young ones among them knew of her real identity and prowess in action and hoped that none that worked under him had been hurt, or worse, killed in her breach of his home headquarters.

Seeming to sense his thoughts and unease, Alice, once known as "Ailios", smiled at him darkly. "Your people are quite alright, Josef. I didn't deprive you of any members of your staff… as stupid and brainless as they appear to be."

Deciding to cut to the chase and avoid "pleasantries", Josef asked in a mocking tone, "What do you require of me, _'My Lady'_?"

Ailios quirked her lips in wry amusement. She knew 'just' how to get under his skin. "Finally gotten to realize me better have you, Josef…? Very well, I'll skip the small talk and get right to the point of why I'm here."

_'Wonderful!'_ He thought with relief, but only nodded in silence and gestured for her to continue.

"I'm hunting down an ancient that has recently come to your city. His name is Koffat."

"Koffat?"

The name didn't ring a bell to him and in all four centuries of his life, Josef had never heard of such a name… or of such a vampire ancient worthy of earning Ailios' disdain.

"He's before your time," Ailios snapped with impatience, "His abilities range far beyond yours as well as any of your people or connections. He's highly dangerous as well as reckless."

Josef's eyes darkened.

Ailios was here to warn him. Despite his transgressions with the woman, he knew for certain that what didn't bode well for Ailios… well, meant that it didn't bode well for him or any other vampire vacating this city.

A large threat had just entered his territory. It was a problem, obviously a very _'big'_ problem judging from the look on the ancient's face.

Not bothering to question or spar with her further, Josef demanded in a deadly voice, "tell me about him."


	2. Chapter One: Visitations

**When the Olde Appear**

**By: Sheiado**

**Summary**: (Mick/Beth). Two ancient vampires come to Los Angeles, one a mysterious hunter of innocents and the other, a rogue who hunts the other ancient for retribution.

**Author's Note**: A big thanks to Outlaw Author for the review! Here's the next part with more to come!

**Chapter One**: Visitations

He had felt the distinct tingle of a presence right upon awakening. His senses, however, keen to an inhuman degree, were momentarily dormant and dulled from sleep and the lack of a decent meal in the past twenty four hours.

It was through sheer instinct, however, that alerted him to just exactly _'who'_ had entered his apartment with the preditorial stealth of a cat burglar.

With a heavy, audible grunt of irritation, Mick St. John climbed out of his confined, frigid sanctuary, his eyes rolling heavenward. His limbs moved efficiently and with enough grace that most would fail to notice how stiff his joints and movements physically were becoming as he adjusted to the room's temperature.

Throwing a shirt over his head and entering the living room with heavy, confident footfalls, Mick gazed over at the occupied couch with a raised eyebrow of suspicion.

His "guest" merely quirked his lips up at him in an unveiled smile of greeting. "About time you woke up," he drawled, "I was beginning to think I'd die from complete boredom sitting here for a whole hour."

Much to Mick's consternation, there in his living room, sat none other than Josef Konstantin in all his patronizing glory, a small glass of ruby liquid cupped in his nibble fingers and a feign smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

It didn't take much for Mick to know that something was up and when Josef randomly popped in for an unexpected visit it usually meant an end result with him being elbow deep in an unnerving situation.

Rolling his eyes at his friend's melodramatic retort, Mick approached his already opened cabinet stores, withdrawing a clear crimson package for himself.

It flopped noisily onto the smooth countertop as he grabbed for his syringe with stiff movements. "And here I thought with age comes patience," he muttered.

Josef scoffed, taking the amusing initiative of pretending to be insulted, followed by, "Whoever gave you _'that' _idea? Patience comes with understanding and sentiment. And we both know that I'm far too _'old'_ for sentiment and far too _'busy'_ for understanding. That's for mortals who have such little time in their life spans that they strive to accomplish _'both'_. You're forgetting that we are the exceptions to the rule."

Mick merely shrugged. He wasn't surprised in the least bit from _'that'_ response coming right out of the mouth of Josef Konstantin.

Steadily filling up his syringe with the contents of his "meal" for the night, he asked offhandedly, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of _'this'_ unexpected visit? Besides another problem, that is…?"

"That weary of my visits, Mick?"

At his friend's silence and upturned eyebrow, Josef huffed a lingering sigh and sat up straighter in the plush cushion. "Very well, I concede. However, before I begin, I must warn you that this isn't just any problem. _'This'_ problem is a more _'dangerous' _one and is on a far larger scale than any threat we've ever come across before."

Wonderful.

Taking the note of seriousness in his friend's voice, Mick stopped his movements, his tone guarded as he stated, "I'm listening."

Not one to sugarcoat any given situation, Josef answered, "We have an ancient in our city, an _'extremely'_ deadly one."

The word "ancient" caught his attention. And _'that'_ word alone made him deftly put down his meal ticket for the moment. "How old…?"

"Fourteen centuries," Josef stated, "he's faster, stronger, and more powerful than any of us in this city… save for one that is."

At the last part of his answer, Mick gazed at him in confusion.

"Yes, there's more," Josef continued, standing up on his feet to peer over at him levelly. "Another ancient has come here to hunt him, a woman named Alice DeWaranne, better known as the Elder _'Ailios'_."

"And the one we're searching to kill…?"

"He goes by Koffat and you'll find that he can mask his tracks and victim's murders exceedingly well. As good as his talents are, however, if he isn't caught and killed soon, let's just say we will _'both' _have an _'extremely' _big mess on our hands to clean up… one that I'm sure will have LA's finest heads rolling. And even 'that' might not be figuratively speaking."

Mick paused at his words, taking them into grave consideration. "Why did you consider me for this job, Josef? Isn't this a situation for your primary contacts…?"

Josef sighed in wistful agitation. "They're not qualified, _'especially'_ when an Elder as powerful and as old as Ailios is involved. Let's just say she's a stubborn woman who prefers to do things her own way without outside interference. I have no "jurisdiction" where she's concerned. Also, she's the grandsire of a lot of my contacts. They refuse and know better than to involve themselves in her affairs."

Mick gazed over at him with overwhelming suspicion. "And yet, I'm _'qualified'_?"

Josef merely smiled in sardonic amusement. "Let's just say you and her have something in common, something that I'm sure _'will'_ allow you into her confidence and good graces."

Mick raised a doubtful eyebrow. "What? Is she a PI, too?"

Josef scoffed. "No… but as to her profession, she's an FBI agent. Look, the only advice I can give you is to not be too surprised to see her on future crime scenes. Also, where there are drained bodies, he was there and was the untimely cause of the victims' murders. Don't fall for his illusions."

"Aren't drained bodies the case with _all_ vampires?"

Walking over to the marble countertop, Josef set down his wine glass, replying rather cryptically, "You will find that _'this'_ particular one is somewhat different."

"And just how _'different'_ can he possibly be…?"

"You'll find out sooner than you think, St. John."


	3. Chapter Two: A Mystery

**When ****The ****Olde**** Appear  
****By: ****Sheiado**

**Summary: (Mick/Beth).** Two ancient vampires come to Los Angeles, one a mysterious hunter of innocents and the other, a rogue who hunts the other ancient for retribution.

**Author's Note**: A big thank you to C.R. Cheetah and Troo for the last reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far and thank you for the compliments, I really appreciate them.

**Story Note**: This chapter is alot shorter than most but that's only because I wanted to get a certain perspective. I hope to write more of Beth's in the next chapter when she comes across our "mystery" person (hehe). Also, to add on, there will be another original character that I plan on writing in in the future that will most certainly be a surprise for you all. Anyway, keep up with the feedback while I try to keep up with the chapters! Lol. Thanks everyone.

**Chapter T****wo**: A Mystery

Most murder investigations routinely involved three main questions that, through just common observation, could, at times, be easily assessed when looking at a crime scene.

Unfortunately, for Lieutenant Carl Davis, this investigation was proving far from being easy to decipher, both in cause of death and in the identity of the victim's murderer.

He knelt carefully beside the body, his gloved hand tilting the young girl's chin back with gentle ease. He studied her neck and upper torso carefully, his eyes searching for anything and everything; puncture wounds, long healed and scarred over, marked the delicate skin of her neck. There was no sign of strangulation, assault, or even recent entry or exit wounds.

The victim was Kendra Mattheson, a college student and a young girl of only nineteen years in age. Her cause of death remained unknown at present. At least, until an autopsy could be performed on her body.

The ashen flesh of her body appeared as being completely unmolested, untouched, and unmarred. But certain physical attributes stuck out that made it painfully obvious that her death had been triggered by the action of a homicide and nothing more.

Her blood had been drained and her contorted expression upon death recognizable as being one of sheer, stark terror.

Lieutenant Davis, after scrutinizing the body for long moments at a time, sighed heavily and stood. Nothing would be answered until the autopsy report came through and even _'that'_ might not be an accurate account.

A lot of questions were running through his mind a mile a minute and absolutely _'none'_ of them could be answered by merely standing there, next to the helpless girl's body, dumbfounded.

Her blood was drained, but there were no wounds or marks. Her blood was drained, but her death wasn't caused by a drug overdose or by poisoning.

As a detective of many years, Lieutenant Davis had to admit that he had never seen the likes of this phenomenon in his entire professional career in the field of homicide investigation.

It made no sense to him. None.

Sighing a heavy breath of agitation, Davis shifted his attention back to the other officers surrounding the scene, striding over to them with the purpose of overseeing the evidence and the transportation of the victim's body. After that, he had _'every' _intention of getting to the bottom of all of this.

It had taken nearly an hour to get all the evidence collected and after it was all picked up and ready for processing for forensics, Davis noticed a familiar blonde head observing him and those in his department behind the thin, yellow tape blockading the media and civilians alike from the crime scene.

Knowing it was inevitable; Davis approached her, a scowl forming on his lips. He halted right in front of the tape, his hands landing on his hips as he gazed over at her reproachfully."You're making this a really dangerous habit, Beth."

The woman in front of him stood her ground. "It's just part of the job, Davis."

If possible, his frown deepened. He knew two important details in the working mind of Beth Turner. One, she was predictable by her reporter enthusiasm and two; she was not only stubborn but reckless in her field work as well.

She smiled at him, obviously impervious to his mood tonight, her round blue eyes twinkling at him with an unveiled look of both excitement and curiosity. "So, what do you guys got so far tonight?"

Davis made his expression stern, his eyes speaking volumes as he answered with no uncertain terms left for argument, "If I tell you, Beth, it's to stay _'off'_ the record, no exceptions. And I don't want any leaks or any of your crazy reports with fanatical headlines. This is to stay _'strictly'_ confidential."

"Consider it done."

After her compliant answer, Davis sighed.

He couldn't even_ 'believe' _that he was going to actually _'share'_ this information with anyone outside of his department. It sounded crazy even in his own head.

Making up his mind before it was too late, Davis began, "Her name is Kendra Mattheson…"


	4. Chapter Three: She's a Vampire!

**When the Olde Appear**

**By: Sheiado**

**Summary**: (Mick/Beth). Two ancient vampires come to Los Angeles, one a mysterious hunter of innocents and the other, a rogue who hunts the other ancient for retribution.

**Author's Note**: A big thank you to Moonlight PI, Kat, ScarletWriter, and Redrose7856 for the reviews. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it! I hope I don't disappoint with the next coming chapters lol! Next scene I'm going to try and make some B/M action happen hehe.

**Chapter Three**: She's a Vampire!

The chaotic scene of sirens, uniforms, and paramedics had finally begun to wither out, taking with them the last vestiges of collected evidence and written testimonies of those who had arrived first on scene.

No witnesses and no concrete evidence. These were the explicit facts, other than the victim's name, age, and place of death, that were attributed to the news coverage report aired and issued by Beth Turner.

She knew the information given in her report revealed very little in the wayside of detail, a sure fact that would no doubt not be enough to suffice the high rising ambitions of her boss and superior at Buzz Wire.

But, due to Davis' account of the crime scene, she knew that no good would come out of revealing the factual details surrounding the victim's mysterious death. It would only rouse suspicion.

After her crew departed, leaving her to her own devices and thoughts, Beth glanced around the open in expectant anticipation, her eyes peering through the flitting shadows and the murky exterior of buildings that stood tall around the crime scene with foreboding intensity.

She felt eyes on her.

Normally, it was a usual occurrence, where from the protective folds of darkness, a familiar presence lurked, watching and protecting, and with a fierce determination that was, in general, not attributed to their own kind.

Sometimes she could sense him, much like he could her. It was almost like there was an unnatural and alluring pull between them, an invisible yet palpable cord that bounded them together in an unquestionable way.

It was just one among many existing subject matters involving their connection to one another that had yet to be figured out.

While standing there, alone in the ominous shadows of night, Beth couldn't help but conjure the image of him in her mind, a habit that calmed her more than she really cared to admit to anyone, herself included.

The detail of Mick St. John was a very vivid image indeed, from the soft, expressive eyes that reflected with life and sorrow to the dark, chiseled features that revealed the unmistakable prowess of a true hunter and guardian.

Everything about him, his presence included, seemed to soothe her. And any time he was near, she found herself becoming more aware and even more alive, as if she were waking up from a long, hazy dream that seemed to never have an ending.

But this presence that was now lurking near her, she knew with absolute certainty, wasn't Mick's.

Her instincts flared to life and she gazed with adapt perceptive ease around the darkened buildings. She saw nothing through the shadows, no sign of movement, changes in shape, or in appearance. Nothing was there.

And yet, there _was_.

The presence had to be inhuman and yet, the heavy gaze that Beth felt lingering on her with interest posed as no actual threat to her. The gaze felt watchful and assessing, observant but careful.

That underlying knowledge of understanding alone made Beth realize a multitude of factors involved within this new investigation; one, the victim had been murdered by a vampire and two, that same said vampire was now being hunted by their own kind.

She knew about the enhanced hearing senses that all vampires possessed, courteousy of Mick, and knew that the attention of her "observer" must have been drawn to her from her conversation with Lieutenant Davis.

He knew and revealed things that few on the scene would have noticed or would even have cared to want to know, details that would either initiate insight and enthusiasm into a professional case, or would initiate a frightening frenzy, most possibly leading toward a catastrophe among the media and public officials alike.

A flicker of movement caught her attention and Beth sucked in a startled breath as a woman emerged from the shadows, seemingly like an ethereal ghost out of thin air.

Her features were aristocratic and beautiful, like a dark avenging angel fallen from heaven. Her eyes, a deep emerald hue with a touch of unnatural golden flecks, met hers.

Nothing could have prepared her and Beth paused and stared, unable to look away like a deer caught in headlights.

The woman didn't appear ruffled in the least bit by the attention. In fact, she seemed amused by it.

She smiled at her, a shockingly pleasant smile, and dipped her head low in acknowledgement, her delicate hands folding themselves into the pockets of her trench coat as she passed by with the lithe, graceful movements of a cat.

There was no mistaking it.

The woman was a vampire.


End file.
